… Falls pretty much effing anywhere it wants to.
It did not rain the whole time I was in Maine this weekend, but the skies over the campsite constantly threatened us with gray, balloony clouds right on the cusp of bursting. I awoke this morning to a steady cool rain that stopped and started, as if never quite satisfied with torturing us poor campers.
This magnificent view of the town of Camden, to which I could not do justice with my digital camera due to the haze, was attained with surprising little effort: A one-mile hike that only kicked up my heartbeat four or five times.
One cannot sufficiently celebrate a birthday with campfire cooking, so I dined on a delicious Maine lobster with lemon butter, about which I cannot rave enough without sounding like an exuberant foodie.
The only disappointment at Camden Hills State Park was the Multi-Use Trail, touted as suitable for bicycles and horses. It was so rocky and swampy, with six-foot wide water crossings, that I think even taking a horse would be a bit difficult, let alone a cheap mountain bike navigated by a pavement-spoiled scaredy-cat.
